Harry's Skies
by yellow 14
Summary: Harry Potter and Thomas Kaivelle are two very different men from two very different worlds who would normally never meet. But fate has other plans. Based on a plot bunny suggested by Nathair Bhinse on the HPFC


Disclaimer: I don't own. At least, I don't own HP. My characters are all mine of course. What do you mean that doesn't include Luna Lovegood!?

AN: This was a plot bunny suggested by Nathair Bhinse and was originally meant to be a D&D/Harry Potter crossover, but then the muse decided that it would be prefer to write this story in the world of an old PS2 game called Savage Skies.

The sun was setting over the Virtwyn capital and in the tall towers of the Kaivelle family mansion, a wealthy young man in fine clothes of red and gold looked out the window wistfully. He gave his lips a nervous lick and turned his attention back to the still open travelling chest he was supposed to be packing.

The Kaivelle family had a long and illustrious tradition, serving the Freywin Empire in the Royal Flying Corps. For Thomas, it was something he had spent almost his entire life expecting to do. His father had flown and his father before him. His uncle Gordon had actually earned a medal for his valour protecting his beast from attack.

But then again, he was willing to bet that not one of them had joined in such troubled times.

A loud eagle cry broke the silence and a flight of four Rocs flew past the city. On their backs, he could see their riders. Soon, he was going to be a flier, just like them. Working in a flight on the back of a dragon or giant bird patrolling the skies. Skies that were beginning to look a lot more hostile, more threatening and more deadly than at any point in living memory, the once united Empire divided into three parts

To the south, the Pariah built up their forces under the dark necromancer Mortalvis. Although technically at peace, nobody really expected it to last. According to his older sister, there had been at least three or four incidents this past month and practically everyone expected it to escalate soon.

In the Western Jungles, the Chrysalis Collective tinkered away with magics and alchemy, mutating creatures and changing the world to their will. Possibly the most mysterious of all the three factions in the remnants of the old Empire, nobody knew what they were planning. But at least they shared the Virtwyn dislike for the Pariah. And their leader Kaladin had taken the sick and the weak with him when the Empire had split.

And then there was the Virtwyn, the 'rightful' heirs to the Empire, headed up by King Anduras. As the leader of the Royal Flying Corps, he was technically the only heir. But this was a distant connection at best, disputed by the exiled Mortalvis and rejected by Kaladin outright. It was rumoured that Kaladin and Anduras had argued bitterly over the direction of the now broken Empire, but both rejected Mortalvis even further.

He gave himself a quick shake. All this reflecting was doing was simply wasting time. He had to pack his trunk and decide what to take and what to leave, not sit a reflect on the situation the world was in or think about what was going to happen. It was hardly likely that he could change the outcome in any event. All he could do was prepare and bring honour to the Kaivelle family name.

He picked through several books, musing over each one before packing or discarding each in turn. He picked through his clothing, even though the servants would no doubt be ordered to pack everything anyway. Over the course of a couple of hours, he slowly filled his case with his belongings and hoped he got it right. He half expected to change his mind again and repack everything from scratch in a few hours, but for now he allowed himself the illusion that he was finally packed and prepared for his journey.

Until he changed his mind. Maybe he shouldn't have packed Kaladin's treatise on the three principles of Alchemy? Would it show that he was sympathetic to a potentially hostile camp or show that he sought to know his enemy? Or maybe he should have avoided packing the history of the Lord Anduras's Farrias campaign. Maybe it would look like he was trying to toady up to King Anduras? Then again, it was a fascinating read. Did carrying a pre-collapse sword show that he was a wealthy snob, or did it show class? Would his luck rabbit's foot show an inclination towards the dark art of necromancy? But then again, he was sure to need the good luck. But if he alienated his fellow fliers, luck wouldn't save him, as his father was so fond of pointing out.

So many choices, so many decisions. He wanted to be prepared for all eventualities. He could sit through the forthcoming war in some obscure posting in the back end of nowhere, never seeing action for all he knew. (A part of him, shamefully he felt, wanted that outcome.)

"Master Thomas, dinner is prepared. Your father has requested your presence in the main dining room."

Thomas turned and faced the owner of the voice, an old man with thinning grey hair who stood tall and erect. He pulled himself to his full height ("Remember boy, you must NEVER show the servants weakness. You are the master, not them," his father's voice echoed in his mind)

"Very well. You may inform my father that I will be down momentarily," he said and the man bowed. It was funny, he had seen this man every day for a month and yet he didn't know his name. That was something else he would no doubt have to change. Servants were all well and good in civilian life, but he could hardly look down on his fellow recruits. And it's hard to stand on your dignity when you're up to your ankles in dragon dung.

Pulling himself to his full height, he walked out his door.

HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS

For Harry Potter, his worries were of a different bent and from the other side of a conflict.

Well, more accurately, it was from the rather more dull job of public relations. Having to explain to the press that yes, someone DID claim to have seen Death Eaters in Hogsmeade and no, that was hardly cause for concern and really not a problem and no there really wasn't a hidden community of Death Eaters hidden in magical Britain.

Really it was enough to drive anyone crazy.

"Mister Potter, how can the Ministry be sure that the reports of Death Eaters in Hogsmeade are untrue?" one reporter asked, a camera flashing in Harry's face.

"Mister Potter, is it possible that a hidden group of Death Eaters remain at large in the wizarding world?"

"Mister Potter, what do you have to say to rumours that a new dark lord is on the rise?"

"Mister Potter-"

"Enough!" Harry bellowed, quieting the room momentarily. He turned and glared at the room angrily. "I can only answer one question at a time ladies and gentlemen," he paused and took a deep breath. As much as it would cheer him up to bawl out the collective lot of them, he hardly intended to be the subject of the alternative front page.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is indeed true that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement received reports of Death Eaters from the town of Hogsmeade. An anonymous tip received by owl to the department was acted on by auror's as soon as it was received. Further investigations by the auror's on the scene conclusively proved that the reports of Death Eaters operating in Hogsmeade were and remain conclusively false. (It had actually been someone's idea of a practical joke, but Harry resisted saying so out loud) There is no evidence whatsoever to suggest that there is a Dark Wizard of any kind rising once again.

Furthermore, the evidence provided by the investigation is, for the protection of various individuals, is currently deemed too sensitive to be released at this time. If the evidence was revealed, it would endanger several innocent lives and jeopardise future operations. That is all we are able to say at present."

The room erupted into a plethora of noise as journalists began asking more questions, while cameras flashed repeatedly. It was nothing short of chaos.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid Mister Potter has his duties to attend to and will not be available for any further questions," a familiar voice called out over the crowd. "Now will you please make your way to the exits in a sensible manner. I'm sure you all have reports to write."

"Thanks Ron," Harry said with a smile and Ron smiled back.

"Well I could hardly leave you alone in there with those vultures mate," Ron replied. "They're scary in packs."

"Yeah. Doesn't stop the Auror department using me as their public face," Harry growled with more than a little hint of annoyance. Ron shrugged.

"Mate, you beat You-Know-Who repeatedly. Makes you seem like you're invincible."

"Compared to those vultures, I think I preferred Voldemort," Harry said with a smirk. "At least he was honest about trying to kill you. This lot…" he paused and shuddered slightly. "They're worse."

"Yes and we could think of all the fun things we missed like having crazy stuff and crazy people out to kill us," Ron replied sarcastically and Harry laughed.

"Mister Potter, can you spare a moment to talk? Please?" asked a young wizard with a camera strapped around his neck and a quill and notepad in his hands.

"As I said in the conference room, the Auror department has nothing more to say at present," Harry said, suppressing a groan and the young man shook his head.

"Oh no Mister Potter, I'm not here about that!" he said excitedly, looking like an overexcited puppy, his green eyes glowing. "Not at all Mister Potter! I wanted to talk to you about your relationship with Ginevra Weasley. For the New Wizarding Times. There are all sorts of rumours abo-"

"And that's ALL they are," Harry said firmly and for a moment, the young reporter paused. "My personal relationships with Ginny Weasley are not of concern to the wizarding world or information that your reading public need to know."

"But sir-"

"Go on, scram before we throw you out!" Ron snapped with a hint of annoyance. He looked over at Harry as the reporter vanished. "Honestly," he said with a hint of exasperation as he shook his head. "They just don't get it at all. Bloody leeches."

"No," said Harry grimly. "They don't."

A memo flew towards them and abruptly unfolded itself in front of Harry and Ron and Harry snatched it out of the air.

"So what job does the Ministry have for us this time?" Ron asked as Harry's face darkened. "Another bunch of idiots pretending to be Death Eaters? Another infestation of wild Dementors? Something else requiring that we face the press yet again?"

"No," Harry said grimly, his mouth turned thin. "No, it's none of those at all."

"How bad is it?" Ron asked, recognising his friend's tone and Harry frowned at the memo once more.

"It's Luna. She's gone missing."

An: Okay, it's not the 3000 word start that was asked for, but the story didn't want to run that far with this chapter. Sorry. There WILL be an update. Eventually.


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